


Herpetology

by Kerocene



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Former Aziraphale/Gabriel, Good Omens AU, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, No Apocalypse, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), everyone lives in Tadfield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 20:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerocene/pseuds/Kerocene
Summary: Aziraphale moves out of Soho due to a bad break up and being tired of the stress of the city. On one quiet evening, a slam outside his house leads him to investigate and finds a wounded black serpent. Where exactly did this creature come from?(Human! Aziraphale, Crowley is still a Demon; everyone lives in Tadfield.)





	1. Pseudechis porphyriacus

Aziraphale is a kind man; pleasant to be around and who tried not to draw too much attention to himself unless it was needed. He spent most of his days with his nose shoved in a book or tending to his store, then evenings with a glass of wine and sometimes a dessert from the local bakery. He was enjoying life best as he could and in ways he thought was worth while. What Aziraphale did not want to admit, though, was deep down how empty it all felt. He did love books and drinks and desserts, but there was always a nagging sensation in the back of his mind.

He was rather lonely.

Moving out of the Soho to the rather quaint countryside of Lower Tadfield, Aziraphale re-established his book shop and hoped to get a fresh start. The hustle of the city had started to become a painful drum in the back of his mind and felt uneasy among the crowds. Constant noise made it hard to focus and the type of people that frequented the area seemed very uninterested in Aziraphale’s wares (not that he minded; he rather not part with his books). 

And… a rather rough break up that Aziraphale would rather avoid speaking of at the moment. Besides the point, honestly. 

So, why Tadfield? Well, Aziraphale wanted something far away, discreet and a place with a penchant for perfect weather (and according to reports over the last 11 years, you could plan accordingly for the temperature year-round). Aziraphale found the locals rather charming as well; there was the Pulsifers, Newt and Anathema, who ran a New Age shop filled with incense and healing crystals as well as a computer repair center (though most seemed to avoid that particular service). There was Madame Tracy who offered ways to talk to dead loved ones and other ‘services’ that made Aziraphale flush to think about. A rather roughed up man who insisted on being called Sergeant Shadwell lived with her too, with him often sitting out front with a dirty tumbler of tea and glaring at Anathema when she came out for reasons beyond his understanding; all he could hear was the angry grumble of ‘witch’ come from his lips from time to time.

A small group of four children sometimes came to ‘shop’ on occasion, but Aziraphale had more fun talking their ears off until they turned tail and left. One of them, Adam Young, however, was rather apt to what the blond had to say and would sometimes visit on his own with his dog (plainly named Dog) and listen to Aziraphale talk about his books of prophecy. He has to admit, he’d grown fond of the boy and enjoyed the sporadic visits to his shop. There was something a bit off about him, he must admit, but Aziraphale just brushed it off as nothing.

Despite all of this, Aziraphale couldn’t properly fill the void in himself; at some point everyone had to go home and he would be left in a silent, dark shop with nothing more to do than drink and try to relax before bed. He would settle in his sleep ware and stare at the dark ceiling, tired but awake enough his mind would not allow him to check out for just a few hours of undisturbed bliss. The silence of Tadfield made it a bit unbearable on the particularly bad evenings, though he would not trade peace for the hollers of drunkards and blaring horns all hours of the day. 

Tonight was one of those evenings, unfortunately for Aziraphale. Not a soul came about his shop, so there was no one for Aziraphale to try and persuade out of buying one of his precious books and no Adam to go off on tangents to. Just him, his shop and, now, his bed.

Perturbed, he tried to think of anything else and not feel like a sorry sort. Racking his mind, Aziraphale searched for anything,  _ anything _ that did not have to do with relationships or being alone or -- 

_ BANG! _

Sitting up quickly, Aziraphale whipped his head around in a futile attempt to place where the sudden noise had come from. It had been rather loud, something of substantial size had to have hit his shop/apartment to cause it. On edge, he slowly placed his feet on the ground, sliding on his slippers, and stood, holding still for a few moments before heading down the stairs. Once in the shop, he paused again, listening to hear any signs of life moving about. 

…

Silence.

Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly and headed toward the front door. The street was dim out, only one lamp casting an orangish glow on the cobblestones and grass. No other businesses had lights on along the strip, leaving Aziraphale to have to make do with the limited visibility. He walked around the edge of his shop, hand tracing the siding as a sort of guide, and scanned between the ground and building for any signs of the culprit. The street lamp cast enough light to illuminate about halfway around the shop, stopped with a hard line of dark shadow. Aziraphale walked close enough that the tips of his slippers touched the line and he inspected. Much to his shock, there was a smear of dark fluid, reeking of the copper scent of blood, and a rather sizable dent. Disturbed and brows furrowed, Aziraphale bent down to look closer but recoiled as he heard a rustling from the shadows.

Taking a few quick steps back, the blond held his breath and stared into the darkness, waiting for any more movement. After a tense couple of seconds, the rustling began again.

“Hello,” Aziraphale called, sweat beading on his temple, “Who is there? Are you ok?”

The rustling grew closer and closer until, finally, the mysterious being slinked out, drawing a gasp from Aziraphale’s lips.

In the orange light revealed the head of a black serpent, whose skull was equal to that of Aziraphale’s whole hand. 

He watched it silently come forward and, as more dark scales came into the light, grew uneasy at the  _ massiveness _ of the reptile. Its slithering was not that graceful, he noted though; it twitched as if pain while moving. It did not seem bothered by Aziraphale’s presence at all, just slowly going forward. 

Stepping to the side, Aziraphale watching the snake slither a bit forward before it recoiled upon itself. He looked closer and felt his eyes widen; there was a ragged gash interrupting the seamless flow of scales, still damp with blood. The creature appeared to be avoiding contact with the wound as it slithered along and not succeeding, unfortunately.

“Oh dear, you poor thing,” Aziraphale muttered, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t possibly leave the creature out here, it would die at this rate. Racking his mind for a moment, Azphirale threw together a hasty plan and looked down at the snake.

“I’ll-I’ll be right back,” he said, tripping over his feet as he headed toward the entrance of the shop, “It’ll be just a moment!”

Bursting through the front, Aziraphale clamored up the stairs and into his bathroom, grabbing an armful of towels. He looked to the tub and thought it might be the best spot for the serpent to rest for the evening, so he laid one of the towels down in the bed of the bath. Heading back down the stairs and out the front, Aziraphale hunches down to the snake who had not gone any farther. He was guessing the whole way through this, as he was no skilled reptile handler by any means, and firstly gently, but firmly, pressed a towel on the animals wound. This warranted a sharp hiss from the serpent and Aziraphale resisted the urge to recoil, instead whispering soft comforts in hopes it would  _ somehow _ calm it a bit. Holding the towel with one hand, Aziraphale took the other and used it as a barrier as he gentle grabbed the area behind the snake skull. Shockingly, it did nothing, acting almost resigned to being helped by this pajama-clad man. 

With one hand holding onto the snakes head and the other pressing upon the wound, Aziraphale made an awkward flurry of motions to try and gain a decent hold on the creature, a few feet of snake ungracefully piled upon his left arm. He rose from the ground, briefly having to catch his balance at the unexpected weight of it, and headed back inside as quickly as he could, slamming the door shut with his foot. Aziraphale moved up the stairs, trying not to step on the bit of serpent being drug along to floor and headed to the bathroom.

Gingerly, he leaned down and placed the massive creature in the tub, removing both towels and getting a better full view. Aziraphale can easily say he had  _ never _ seen a snake the size in England in all his years; lengthwise he assumed it was easily around 10 feet long and half a foot long width wise. Its scales were a murky black meshed with an underside of rich crimson scales the started at its chin and ended at the tip of its tail. About midway down its body was an angry red gash, leaking much less blood now but still raw. Aziraphale looked down at the damp cloth in his hand and walked over, laying it over the edge of the tub, deciding to clean it in the morning. He looked down and made eye contact with a pair of shockingly yellow, slit pupils and gulped a bit.

“I am going to wipe your wound with some water and leave you be for the evening,” Aziraphale said, still holding eye contact. “I’ll have you know, you picked a good home to slam into – not everyone would be so willing to let a creature like you into their home.”

Aziraphale made work of drawing up hot, but not scalding, water and dipped the clean towel under it. Squeezing out the excess, he shuffled over and crouched down by the edge of the bath and reached down to touch the injury (all while holding the serpent's gaze). It made no signs of lunging at Aziraphale’s hand, however, and only slightly hissed and drew back from the touch before relaxing its long body. The blond man made quick work of cleaning up the raw skin and folded the second bloody cloth over the edge before standing up. 

“I’ll come in and check on you in the morning, yes? Good evening to you, dear.”

With that, Aziraphale turned off the lights and closed the door, not seeing the head of a curious serpent watch his back over the edge of the tub.


	2. Marshmellow Root

Morning filtered through the soft, beige curtains of Aziraphale’s bedroom, casting warmth over the freshly awakened man. Letting out a yawn, the blond sat up and whipped away the sleep from his pale blue eyes. Last night still felt more akin to a dream than reality, but, nonetheless, Aziraphale stood, cracked his back and headed down the hall to the bathroom to check on his ‘patient’.

The upper level of Aziraphale's shop is not much to gawk at; it’s about as modest as the person who inhabits it. Dark wood floors, white walls, no real decorations at all, but Aziraphale did not mind this one bit. Besides, he had no one to impress but himself.

Walking up to the door, Aziraphale placed his hand on the worn metal knob and opened up slowly, somewhat expecting to have a visitor waiting at the door. Much to his surprise, though, there was no large serpent awaiting him at his feet, just cool white tiles.

The blond walked in and peered over the rim of the tub to see the serpent loosely coiled up; his wound looked remarkably better already, somehow, but still raw. Upon leaning over, the snake’s head lifted up and looked at him lazily.

“Looks like you also just got up,” Aziraphale chuckled, “Sorry I did not wrap your wounds last night – I cannot say I trust myself with doing a proper job on you.”

The snake just flicked its tongue out at him, resting its head upon one of its coils. Morning light was filtering through the bathroom as well, catching on its inky scales quite nicely; Aziraphale had to say it was a fascinating beast. 

A frown tugged at his features as he looked on, however. He couldn’t imagine there could  _ possibly _ be some sort of exotic pet clinic in these parts and Aziraphale didn’t have a license, so driving toward London was out of the question. Part of him was afraid of taking the snake to a clinic as well, as he didn’t want them to try and keep him for heaven knows what. He kept wracking his mind in the hopes some answer would come to him but  _ where _ or  _ what  _ or  _ who _ –

...Who.

Anathema!

While she may be in the business of healing tonics for  _ humans _ , the dear was incredibly wise in subjects Aziraphale could not fathom; maybe she knew of some kind of balm or mix. 

_ I don’t have many other options to choose from _ , the blond thought glumly to himself. 

Walking over to the tub, Aziraphale scooped up the bloodied towels and made eye contact with the yellow orbs looking up. Its motions were strangely human, but, like most odd things, Aziraphale thought little of it.

“I’m going to tidy up and then go out to find a cure for you; can’t have you wasting away in the bath with that wound,” he paused for a moment looking away. “I suppose I should call you something, shouldn’t I? Rather rude to think of you just as ‘serpent’ or ‘creature’...”

Going through his mind, Aziraphale tried to think of some of the recent books he had paged through as of late. Maybe authors… Niel? Pratchett? No… 

Aziraphale then thought of a rather interesting biography he has been reading a while ago, on a fellow from Warwickshire responsible for the founding of Thelema. While Aleister was not quite fitting, the later, however…

“How about… Crowley?”

Aziraphale looked expectantly at the snake as if he expected him to give a ‘yes’ or ‘no’, but only got another flick of the tongue. This was as much of an affirmative that a 10-foot long reptile could give, he supposed. He gave Crowley a soft smile.

“Crowley it is then. Right,” he turned to head out the door frame, bloody towels draped over his arm, “I will have to move you when I am back so I can clean up, I’m afraid. I promise you I shall be quite gentle,”. From there, he padded down the hall and dropped the towels a basket on the floor and stripped down to his underpants, depositing his soft blue pj’s into the washer. Walking to his room, Aziraphale grabbed an arrangement of garments (all fitting his Victorian style) and a fresh towel, then headed back to the bathroom.

He had been prepared to awkwardly handle Crowley again but was greeted with the hulking serpent slowly moving across the floor to a corner. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale started, perplexed, “You… You moved yourself. Well, thank you, I suppose,” he paused, “Do not do it again, however, you’re bloody hurt!”

Crowley, as expected was silent.

Removing the towel Crowley was on before stepping, he cranked on the faucet and let hot droplets fall from the shower head. Aziraphale got in and out of the shower in record speed, as he did not wish to waste time today. He reached toward the hook on the wall where he had placed the towel and grabbed the cloth, gently patting himself down before stepping out. Crowley was lazily coiled in a corner, staring at the wall as if it was attempting to give him some shred of privacy. The action caused Aziraphale to chuckle; what a funny little creature it was.

Finishing toweling down, Aziraphale placed the damp fabric back on the hook and got dressed, then completing the final bits of his daily grooming routine. Crowley seemed to able to tell he was done and was glancing up at him. 

“All done! Let me dry down the tub and I can return you there, don’t want you sat on the floor while I’m gone.”

Picking up the towel he had previously discarded, Aziraphale quickly swiped up the remaining bits of water and subs that clung to the porcelain before turning back to Crowley. 

“Alright, up with you then. Forgive me for any, er, manhandling.”

He squatted down, moving slowly to get a hold on the snake when Crowley moved toward him. Aziraphale froze and watched it move; gingerly, Crowley coiled up around his arm, lose enough to feel no danger but secure enough to be supported when lifted. It stopped once its wound was close to Aziraphale, who took it as his cue to gently lift up the rest of the long black and red coils. He stood with Crowley and softly padded to the tub, bending down and placing the back end of the snake down first. 

Crowley slowly loosened itself from Aziraphale’s arm and, when fully removed, kept its head lifted to the blond man’s eye level. They looked at one another for a moment before Crowley let out another flick of a forked tongue and folded in on itself.

Shakily standing up, Aziraphale straightened his vest a bit nervously.

“Yes, well. I’ll be– I’ll be back. Stay where you are, Crowley, I mean it,” he warned, tone lacking any real bite.

From there, Aziraphale closed the door behind him and headed down to visit with Anathema. Rationally, the blond knew that Crowley was a snake, nothing more, but a small, faint voice in the back of his mind echoed out concerns that this fact may be, at best, a guess.

\----- 

_Pulsifer’s_ _PCs & Potions_ was open for business on this, as usual, perfect morning. The store was deeply cluttered inside, but in a charming way; every object seemed to belong in its place as if the universe ordered it look this way. The gentle smell of incense filtered through the air, leaving a slightly smoky haze; if anything, it added to the aesthetic of the store

Anathema was having some lemonade while watching Madame Tracy look through her selection of dried herbs, with Newt fiddling with a busted Commodore 64. Newt wanted to learn how to work computers and, by god, he was trying but, with the gentle advice from Anathema, is starting with something a bit less likely to blow Tadfield’s power out. His wife had to admire the dedication though; one of those charming things she saw in him most would brush off as a fool’s dreams.

Anathema’s store did not move products very fast, but she had enough money from her family’s lucky investing options over a few generations that she kept up with it more as a hobby. She did find fun in watching people proclaim burning sage was the key to stopping the pesky spirit shaking their door, however.

Just as Madame Tracy was about to ask about some quartz, the front doorbell chimed and a slightly stressed looking Aziraphale came tumbling in. Anathema scrunched up her brows a bit; she hadn’t seen him like this in before. Madame Tracy paid no mind to it and just happily welcomed him in.

“Aziraphale dear! Good morning to you, looking as lovely as usual,” Madame Tracy sang in her sweet voice.

Aziraphale gave a smile and curt nod, not really wanting to have any small talk.

“Ah, thank you for that, Madame Tracy. Quite kind of you, now, Anathema,” he walked around the display tables and random bits of decoration to the counter she sat behind. “I need a favor or, well, a bit of guidance I suppose. I have taken in a guest last night and they are in rough shape. I was hoping you’d have any sort of, oh I don’t know, herbal remedies? For injuries?”

Anathema arched a brow over her glasses and Newt had stopped tinkering with the now more battered computer, interested in the strange news Aziraphale has brought to them.

“You… brought in an injured person last night and they’re just sitting in your home? Your store? Unattended?”

“Ah well, you see, that is the thing. They’re not of, um, the human persuasion. Rather it is… a snake.”

Madame Tracy was also listening in now. All three knew Aziraphale was a soft soul but didn’t expect him to be taking in injured serpents he found at night. Nonetheless, Aziraphale pushed on.

“I heard a rather loud crashing sound as I retired to bed, so I aptly got up to look; who knows what could have been happening and I could not rest easy knowing I did not help someone in need. So I came down and saw some blood on the side of my home and, as I looked, the grass moved about in the shadows and out came a serpent! Crowley –”

“You named him,” Anathema interrupted, tone full of confusion.

Aziraphale felt himself flush a bit at this. 

“Well, yes, it believed it be rather rude to just refer to it as ‘snake’ or ‘reptile’ or ‘creature’ or anything of that nature. And don’t say him, I do not know what it is at the moment,” he shook his head for a moment, trying to get back on track. “ _ Anyways _ , I brought it in and laid it in my tub for the evening. I was unsure of what to put on a snake wound so I dabbed the spot with hot water to clean it off. 

“I don’t want to just let it die, Anathema, so I thought, I don’t know, by some ineffable twist of fate you might have some vein of knowledge on healing aids for animals? I don’t have the means to take it to London and I don’t know the first thing about herpetology…”

Newt raised his hand. “We could always take Dick Turpin –”

“No Dick Turpin,” Anathema cut him off, then looked at Aziraphale. “Well, I wouldn’t call it an ‘ineffable twist of fate’ but, if I could see the snake and gauge if I could even do anything. There are mixes I know for people, but I do not know how effective they would be on a reptile.”

Aziraphale perked up, “So you’ll help?”

Anathema quirked her lip at him. “I didn’t say no, did I?”

A relieved smile settled on the blond man's face and he sang her praises up and down before the two trekked off back to the book shop, with a confused Newt and Madame Tracy left behind. As the door closed, the duo watched them head off and didn’t speak for a few moments. Finally, Madam Tracy turned back to the wannabe computer engineer and held up the quartz.

“Do you know what to do with this?”

\----- 

In the threshold of the bathroom, Anathema froze for a fraction of a second. Despite her store selling trinkets and herbs that made people feel elevated to a higher mystical realm, she had the powers they wished for.

Auras of all colors surrounded people Anathema crossed paths with; Newt was a soft blue, Madame Tracy a tacky pink, Shadwell a deep read and Aziraphale a gentle gold-white (a color  _ very _ rare to come by). As she gazes into the tub, however, the large serpent radiated a heavy black aura. Animals tend to have weaker auras she’d discovered over time, but the energy radiating off of Crowley was greater than that of most people.

Whatever it may be causing this, however, did not seem to have any ill will toward Aziraphale; she watched in quiet shock as he bent down and introduced the snake to her.

“Crowley, this the Anathema! She is here to assess your current state and see if she can be of any aid to you. So no need to fear her, dear; she is a friend!”

Crowley seemed to relax a bit upon hearing Aziraphale’s words, which only continued to her confusion further.  _ Can… Can it understand him _ , she thought.

Taking a few steps forward across the white tiled floor, she joined Aziraphale on the ground. Leaning over the edge slightly, she kept a trained eye on Crowley’s movements, watching it shift slightly to reveal the gash better. Tenderly, she touched near the area in question, Crowley’s scales shifting out of instinct.

The wound looked not too deep, but rather ragged and most likely going to leave a rather garish scar. What was rather odd, Anathema found, was the edges of the cut looked almost… burnt. As if someone had taken a heated blade and sliced at it.

“What do you think? Is… is there any way you can help it?”

“I can make a mix of marshmallow root, honey, and lavender,” she said, looking at a worried Aziraphale, “The mix will need to be applied twice a day, with the wound re-wrapped after each application. It’s hurt but I do not think enough to die.” The balm Anathema was proposing was nothing more than a simple survivalist medicine to wounds, but it was all the witch could think of. She was still a bit put off by the creature as well; rather play it safe for now.

Aziraphale’s blue eyes lit up and he smiled widely, reaching forward to grab the dark-haired woman’s hand, shaking it wildly. For all the unsureness she felt toward Crowley, seeing Aziraphale this excited washed away some of that anxiety. 

“Bless you Anathema! I owe you heaven and above!”

“Of course, anything for you and your…” she glanced back in the tub, “New pet.”

At that Aziraphale looked like he was about to protest, but Anathema beat him to it.

“Aziraphale, I’ve known you for a few months now. This is the most worked up I’ve seen you about anything; I can tell you feel some sort of attachment with it already. Besides,” she rose to her feet, “I think it will do you good to have a pet. You’re all alone in this book shop, right? Having another living being around will be good for you.”

Aziraphale promptly shut his mouth and slumped his head a bit before nodding slightly. 

“Yes, I… suppose I can’t argue with that,” he glanced back at the snake, "I really do just want it to recover. No living thing deserves to suffer."

Anathema smiled to herself and heading toward the door before pausing and turning back to look at the blond man.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hm?”

“I think Crowley may be your ‘ineffable twist of fate’.”

And with that, the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU ALL WERE SO KIND ON THE FIRST CHAP blows a kiss to all of you... Thank you for liking this little project! I'll probably update it sporadically. If there are any weird editing things forgive me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was a rather sudden idea that hit me this morning. I'm very rusty on writing still haha, but no better way to get back in the swing of it then by doing it! I hope you all enjoy, I'm just sort of going with the flow on this.


End file.
